 Section 10 of Ulysses. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Ulysses by James Joyce, Part 2, The Odyssey, Episode 7, Aolus, Part 2. A street cortege. Both smiled over the cross-blind at the file of capering newsboys in Mr. Bloom's wake. The last zig-zagging white on the breeze of Mockingkite, a tale of white bone-outs. Look at the young gutter snipe behind him, hue and cry, then a head-set, and you'll kick, oh, my rib-risible! Taking off his flat spogs and a walk, small lines, steel-up on larks. He began to mazurka in swift caricature, across the floor and sliding feet, past the fireplace to J.J. O'Melloy, who placed the tissues in his receiving hands. What's that, when O's Crawford said with a start? Where'd the other two gone? Who, the professor said, turning? They're gone round the oval for a drink. Patty Hooper is there with Jack Hall, came over last night. Come on, then, Miles Crawford said. Where's my hat? He walked jirkily into the office behind, parting the vent of his jacket, jingling his keys in his back pocket. They jingled, then, in the air and against the wood as he locked his desk drawer. He's pretty well on, Professor McHugh said in a low voice. Seems to be, J.J. O'Melloy said, taking out a cigarette case in murmuring meditation, but it is not always as it seems. Who has the most matches? The Calumet of Peace. He offered a cigarette to the professor and took one himself. Then he promptly struck a match for them and lit their cigarettes in turn. J.J. O'Melloy opened his case again and offered it. Thank you, who? Then he had said, helping himself. The editor came from the inner office, a straw hat awry on his brow. He declaimed in song, pointing sternly at Professor McHugh, To his rank and fame that tempted thee, to his empire termed thy heart. The professor grinned, locking his long lips. Aye, ye bloody old Roman Empire, Miles Crawford said. He took a cigarette from the open case. Then, lighting it for him with quick grace, said, silence for my brand new riddle. Imperium Romanum, J.J. O'Melloy said gently. It sounds nobler than British or Brixton. The word reminds one somehow of fat in the fire. Miles Crawford blew his first puff violently towards the season. That is, he said, we are the fat. You and I are the fat in the fire. We haven't got a chance of a snowball in hell. The grandeur that was Rome. Wait a moment, Professor McHugh said, raising two quiet claws. We mustn't be led away by words, by sounds of words. We think of Rome, imperial, imperious, imperative. He extended elocutionary arms from frayed, stained, shirt cuffs, pausing. What was their civilization? Vast I allow, but vile, cloacae, sewers. The Jews and the wilderness and on the mountaintop said, It is meat to be here. Let us build an altar to Jehovah. The Roman, like the Englishman who follows in his footsteps, Brought to every new shore on which he set his foot. On our shore he never said it. Only his cloacae obsession. He gazed about him in his toga and he said, It is meat to be here. Let us construct a water closet. Which they accordingly did do, then Hen said. Our old ancient ancestors, as we read in the first chapter of Guinesses, Were partial to the running stream. They were nature's gentlemen, J.J. Omeloy murmured. But we also have Roman law. And Punch's pilot is his prophet, Professor McHugh responded. Do you know that story about Chief Baron Pales? J.J. Omeloy asked. He was at the Royal University Dinner. Everything was going swimmingly. First my riddle, then Hen said, Are you ready? Mr. O'Maddenburg, tall, In copious gray of Dunigal tweed, came in from the hallway. Stephen Dedalus behind him, uncovered as he entered. Entrez mes enfants, then Hen cried. I escort a supplicant Mr. O'Maddenburg said melodiously. Youth led by experience visits notoriety. How do you do? The editor said, holding out a hand. Come in. Your governor is just gone. Then Hen said to all, Silence, what opera resembles a railway line? Reflect, ponder, exogitate, reply. Stephen handed over the type sheets, pointing to the title and signature. Who, the editor asked, bit torn off. Mr. Garrett Deasy, Stephen said. Dedal Peltor, the editor said. Who tore it? Was he short taken? A swift sail flaming. From storm and south he comes, pale vampire. Mouth to my mouth. Good day, Stephen, the professor said, Coming to peer over their shoulders. Foot and mouth, are you turned? Bullock befriending bard. Shindy in well-known restaurant. Good day, sir, Stephen answered. The letter is not mine. Garrett Deasy asked me to... Oh, I know him, Miles Crawford said. And I knew his wife, too. The bloodiest old tartar God ever made. By Jesus, she had the foot and mouth disease and no mistake. The night she threw the soup in the waiter's face and the star and garter, oh-ho! A woman brought sin into the world. For Helen, the runaway wife of Menelaus. Ten years, the Greeks. Of work, Prince of Brefney. Is he a widower? Stephen asked. I, a grass one, Miles Crawford said. His eyes running down the tribe's crypt. Emperor's horses, Habesburg. An Irishman saved his life on the ramparts of Vienna. Don't you forget? Maximilian, Carl O'Donnell. Graf von Tierkanl in Ireland. Sent his heir over to make the king an Austrian field marshal now. Going to be trouble there one day. Wild geese. Oh, yes, every time. Don't you forget that? The moot point is, did he forget it? JJ and I said quietly, turning a horseshoe paperweight. Saving princes is a thank you job. Professor McCue turned on him. And if not, he said. I'll tell you how it was. Miles Crawford began. A Hungarian it was one day. Lost causes. Noble Marques mentioned. We were always loyal to lost causes, the professor said. Success for us is the death of the intellect and of the imagination. We were never loyal to the successful. We serve them. I teach the blatant Latin language. I speak the tongue of a race. The acme of whose mentality is the maxim. Time is money. Material domination. Dominus. Lord. Where is the spirituality? Lord Jesus. Lord Salesbury. A sofa in a West End club. But the Greek. Kyrie Elezon. A smile of light. Brightened his dark rimmed eyes. Lengthened his long lips. The Greek he said again. Curious. Shining word. The vowels. The semite and the Saxon. No, not. Curie. The radiance of the intellect. I ought to profess Greek to language of the mind. Kyrie Elezon. The closet maker and the cloak maker will never be lords of our spirit. We are Leeds. Subjects of the Catholic chivalry of Europe that founded at Trafalgar and of the empire of the spirit. Not at Imperium. That went under with the Athenian fleets. At Aegus Botami. Yes, yes. They went under. Yes. Misled by an oracle made a last attempt to retrieve the fortunes of Greece. Loyal to a lost cause. He strode away from them towards the window. They went forth to battle, Mr. Maddenberg said grayly. But they always fell. Boo-hoo! Lennon wept with little noise. Owing to a brick received in the letter half of the matinee. Poor, poor, poor Paris. He whispered then near Stephen's ear. Lennon's the merc. There's a ponderous pundit McHugh who wears goggles of ebony hue. And he mostly sees double to wear them white trouble. I can't see to Joe Miller. Can you? In mourning for solace, Mulligan says, whose mother is beastly dead. Miles Crawford crammed the sheets into a side pocket. That'll be all right, he said. I'll read the rest later. Lennon extended his hands in protest. But my riddle, he said, what opera is like a railway line? Opera. Mr. Maddenberg's sphinx face re-riddled. Lennon announced gladly. The Rose of Castile. See the wheeze. Rose of Castile. Gee! He poked Mr. Maddenberg in his spleen. Mr. Maddenberg fell back with a grace on his umbrella, feigning a gasp. Help, he said. I feel a strong weakness. Lennon, rising to tiptoe, fanned his face rapidly with the rustling tissues. The professor, returning by way of the files, swept his hand across Stevens and Mr. Maddenberg's loose ties. Paris passed and present, he said. You look like communards. Like fellows who had blown up the Bastille, J.J. Omeloy said in quiet mockery. Or was it you shot the Lord Lieutenant of Finland between you? You looked as though you had done the deed. General Babrikov? Omnium gatherum! We were only thinking about it, Stevens said. All the talents, Miles Crawford said. Law. The classics. The turf. Lennon put in literature, the press. If Bloom were here, the professor said, the gentle art of advertisement. And Madame Bloom, Mr. Maddenberg added, the vocal muse, Dublin's prime favourite. Lennon gave a loud cough. Ahem, he said very softly. Oh, for a fresh of breath air. I caught a cold in the park. The gate was open. You can do it. The editor laid a nervous hand on Stevens' shoulder. I want you to write something for me, he said. Something with a bite in it. You can do it. I see it in your face. In the lexicon of youth. See it in your face. See it in your eye. Lazy-eyed little schemer. Foot in mouth disease. The editor cried in scornful invective. Great nationalist meeting in Boris and Osary. All balls bulldozing the public. Give them something with a bite in it. Put us all into it. Dammit, so. Father Sun and Holy Ghost and Jake's McCarty. We can all supply a mental pabulum, Mr. Maddenberg said. Steven raised his eyes at a bold, unheeding stare. He wants you for the press gang, J.J. O'Malley said. The great Galaher. You can do it. Miles Crawford repeated, clenching his hand in emphasis. Wait a minute. We'll paralyze Europe as Ignatius Galaher used to say when he was on the show run doing billiard making in the Clarence. Galaher, that was a press man for you. That was a pen. You know how he made his mark, I'll tell you. That was the smartest piece of journalism ever known. That was in 81, 6th of May. Time of the Invincibles. Murder in the Phoenix Park. Before you were born, I suppose, I'll show you. He pushed past them to the files. Look at here, he said, turning. The New York world cabled for a special. Remember that time? Professor McHugh nodded. New York world, the editor said, excitedly pushing back his straw hat. Where it took place, Tim Kelly or Kavana, I mean, Joe Brady and the rest of them were skin to goat, drove the car. Whole roots, see? Skin to goat, Mr. O'Maddon Brook said. Fitz Harris. Cabman's shelter, they say, down there at Butch Bridge. Hollahan told me, you know Hollahan. Hop and carry one, is it? Miles Crawford said. And poor Gumley is down there too, so he told me, Minding Stones for the Corporation. A Night Watchman. Steven turned in surprise. Gumley, he said, you don't say so. A friend of my father said, Never mind, Gumley. Miles Crawford cried angrily. Let Gumley mind the Stones. See, they don't run away. Look out here. What did Ignatius Gallagher do? I'll tell you, inspiration of genius. Cable'd right away. Have you weekly Freeman of 17th March? Right, have you got that? He flung back pages of the files and stuck his finger on a point. Take page four. Advertisement for Branson's Coffee, let us say. Have you got that? Right. The telephone word. A distant voice. I'll answer it, the professor said going. B is Parkgate. Good. His finger leaped and struck point after point. Vibrating. T is Vicerigal Lodge. C is where murder took place. K is Nockmaroon Gate. The loose flesh of his neck shook like a cock's waddles. An ill-starched dick he jutted up and with a rude gesture he thrust it back into his waistcoat. Hello. Evening telegraph here. Hello. Who's there? Yes? Yes? Yes? F to P is a rude skin to goat drove the car for an alibi. In Chacour, Round Town, Windy Arbor, Palmerston Park, Rennele, F-A-B-P, got that? X is Davies Public House in Upper Leasing Street. The professor came to the inner door. Bloom is at the telephone, he said. Tell him go to how, the editor said promptly. X is Davies Public House. Clever. Very. Clever, Rennehan said, very. Give it to them on hot plate, Miles Crawford said, the whole bloody history. Nightmare from which you would never awake. I thought, the editor said proudly, I was present. Dick Adams, the best-hearted bloody corkman the Lord ever put the breath of life in and myself. Rennehan bowed to a shape of air announcing, Madam, I'm Adam. And Abel was air I saw Elba. History, Miles Crawford cried. The old woman of Princess Street was there first. There was weeping and gnashing of teeth over that. Out of an advertisement. Gregor Gray made the design for it. That gave him the leg up. Then Paddy Hooper worked to Tay Pay who took him on to the star. Now he's got in with the Blumenfeld. That's press. That's talent. Pius, he was all their daddies. The father of Scare journalism Rennehan confirmed and the brother-in-law of Chris Kalanen. Hello, are you there? Yes, he's here still. Come across yourself. Where do you find a pressman like that now? Well, the editor cried. He flung the pages down. The father of Scare journalism Rennehan confirmed and the brother-in-law of Chris Kalanen. Hello, are you there? Yes, he's still here. Come across yourself. Where do you find a pressman like that now? Well, the editor cried. He flung the pages down. Damn clever. Rennehan said to Mr. Maddenberg. Very smart. Mr. Maddenberg said. Professor McHugh came from the Atter Office. Talking about the invincibles, he said. Did you see that some hawkers were up before the recorder? Oh, yes. JJ Omeloy said equally. Lady Dudley was walking home through the park to see all the trees that were blown down by that cyclone last year and touched by a view of Dublin. And it turned out to be a commemoration postcard of Joe Brady, or number one, or Skindigote, right-house-side-device-regal lodge, imagine. They're only in the hook-and-eye department, Miles Crawford said. Pshaw, press in the bar. Where have you a man now at the bar like those fellows? Like White Side, like Isaac Butt, like the Silver Tongue Dohegan? Hey, a bloody nonsense. Pshaw, only in the half-pity place. His mouth continued to twitch, unspeaking in nervous curls of disdain. Would anyone wish that mouth for her kiss? How do you know? Why did you write it then? Rhymes and reasons. Mouth, south? Is the mouth south some way, or is the south a mouth? The same. South, pout, out, shout, drought, rhymes. Two men dressed the same, looking the same, two by two. La tuapache, che parlare tipiace, mentreche il vento, compa, siltace. He saw them three by three, approaching girls in green in rose, in russet, entwining. Parler perso, in mauve, in purple. Qu'en la pacifica orie flamme, gold of orie flamme, di rimerar, fe pieu, ardenti. But I, old men, pelletate, leaden footed, under dark neath the night, mouth, south, tomb, womb. Speak up for yourself, Mr. O'Maddon Berksud. Sufficient for the day, JJ O'Malloy, smiling, paley, took up the cage. My dear Miles, he said, flinging his cigarette aside, you put a false construction on my words. I hold no brief, but at present advised for the third profession, qu'a profession, but your cork legs are running away with you. Why not bring in Henry Gratton and Flood and Demosthenes and Edmund Berk? Ignatius Gallagher, we all know, and his chapel is at boss, Hemsworth, of the Farthing Press and his American cousin of the Bari guttersheet, not to mention Paddy Kelly's budget, pews occurrences and our watchful friend, the skibbering eagle. Why bring in a master of forensic eloquence like Whiteside? Sufficient for the day is the newspaper thereof. Links with bygone days of yore. Gratton and Flood wrote for this very paper, the editor cried in his face. Irish Volunteers, where are you now? Established 1763. Dr. Lucas, who have you now like John Pilpot Curran? Pshaw. Well, J.J. O'Melloy said. Bush, Casey, for example. Bush, the editor said. Well, yes, Bush, yes. He has a strain of it in his blood. Kendall Bush, or I mean Seymour Bush? He would have been on the bench a long ago. The professor said only for, but no matter. J.J. O'Melloy turned to Stephen and said quietly and slowly. One of the most polished periods I think I ever listened to in my life fell from the lips of Seymour Bush. It was in that case of Fratricide, the child's murder case. Bush defended him. And in the porches of mine ear did he pour. Anyway, how did he find that out? He died in his sleep. Or the other story, beast with two backs? What was that? The professor asked. Italia Magistra Artium. He spoke on a law of evidence, J.J. O'Melloy said, of Roman justice as contrasted with the earlier Mosaic Code, the Lex Talionis. And he cited the Moses of Michelangelo and the Vatican. Those in words let a hand prefaced. Silence. Pause. J.J. O'Melloy took out his cigarette case. False, low, something quite ordinary. Messenger took out his matchbox thoughtfully and lit his cigar. I have often thought since I'm looking back over that strange time that it was that small act trivial in itself, that striking of that match was the last after course of both our lives. A polished period. J.J. O'Melloy resumed, molding his words. He said of it that stony effigy and frozen music harmed and terrible of the human form divine, that eternal symbol of wisdom and a prophecy which if ought that the imagination or the hand of sculptor has wrought in marble of soul transfigured and of soul transfiguring deserves to live, deserves to live. His slim hand with a wave graced echo and fall. Fine, Miles Crawford said it once. The divine a flatus Mr. O'Madenberg said. You like it? J.J. O'Melloy asked Steven. Steven, his blood wooed by grace of language and gesture blushed. A cigarette from the case. J.J. O'Melloy offered his case to Miles Crawford. Then and lit their cigarettes as before and took his trophy saying Muchibus tankibus. A man of high morale. Professor McGinnis was speaking to me about you J.J. O'Melloy said to Steven. What do you think really of that hermetic crowd? The opal hush poets A.E. the master mystic That Blavatsky woman started it. She was a nice old bag of tricks. A.E. has been telling some Yankee interviewer that you came to him in the small hours of the morning to ask him about planes of consciousness. McGinnis thinks you must have been pulling A.E.'s leg. He's a man of the very highest morale, McGinnis. Speaking about me, what did he say? What did he say? What did he say about me? Don't ask. Professor McHugh said waving the cigarette case aside. Wait a moment. Let me say one thing. The finest display of oratory I ever heard was a speech made by John F. Taylor at the College Historical Society. Mr. Justice Fitzgibbon, the present Lord Justice of Appeal, had spoken and the paper under debate was an essay new for those days advocating the revival of the Irish Tongue. He turned towards Miles Crawford and said you know Gerald Fitzgibbon. Then you can imagine the style of his discourse. He is sitting with Tim Healy. J.G. O'Merloy said rumour has it on the Trinity College Estates Commission. He is sitting with a sweet thing. Miles Crawford said in a child's frock. Go on. Well, it was the speech. Mark you, the professor said of a finished orator full of courteous haughtiness and pouring and chastened addiction. Let's say the vials of his wrath but pouring the proud man's contemplation upon the new movement. It was then a new movement. We were weak, therefore worthless. He caused his long thin lips an instant but eager to be on raised an outspanned hand to his spectacles and with trembling thumb and ring finger touching lightly the black rims steadied them to a new focus. Impromptu In a ethereal tone he addressed J.G. O'Merloy Taylor had come there you must know from a sick bed that he had prepared his speech I do not believe for there was not even one shorthand writer in the hall. His dark lean face had a growth of shaggy beard around it. He wore loose white silk neckcloth and altogether he looked, though he was not a dying man. His gaze turned at once but slowly from J.G. O'Merloy's towards Stephen's face and then bent at once to the ground seeking. His unglazed linen color appeared behind his bent head soiled by his withering hair still seeking he said when Fitzgibbon's speech had ended John F. Taylor rose to reply briefly as well as I can bring them to mind his words were these he raised his head firmly his eyes be taught themselves once more witless shellfish swam in the gross lenses to and fro seeking outlet he began Mr. Chairman ladies and gentlemen great was my admiration in listening to the remarks addressed to the youth of Ireland a moment since by my learned friend it seemed to me that I had been transported into a country far away from this country into an age remote from this age that I stood in ancient Egypt and that I was listening to the speech of some high priest of that land addressed to the youthful Moses his listeners held their cigarettes poised to hear their smokes ascending in frail stocks that flowered with his speech and let our crooked smokes noble words coming look out could you try your hand at it yourself and it seemed to me that I heard the voice of that Egyptian high priest raised in a tone of like hotness and like pride I heard his words and their meaning was revealed to me from the fathers it was revealed to me that those things are good which yet are corrupted which neither if they were supremely good nor unless they were good could be corrupted that's you, that's St. Aristine why will you Jews not accept our culture our religion and our language you're a tribe of nomad herdsmen we are a mighty people you have no cities nor no wealth our cities are hives of humanity and our galleys tirim and quadrim laden with all manner merchandise furrow the waters of the known globe you have but emerged from primitive conditions we have a literature a priesthood an age-long history and a polity Nile child man effigy by the Nile Bank the Babe Marie's Quill cradle of bulrushes a man supple in combat stone-horned, stone-bearded heart of stone you pray to a local and obscure idol our temples majestic and mysterious are the abodes of ISIS and Osiris of Horus and Amunra yours serfdom awe and humbleness ours thunder and disease Israel is weak and few are her children Egypt is an host and terrible are her arms vagrants and day laborers are you called the world trembles at our name a dumb belch of hunger cleft his speech he lifted his voice above it boldly but ladies and gentlemen had the youthful Moses listened to and accepted that view of life had he bowed his head and bowed his will and bowed his spirit before that arrogant admonition he would never have brought the chosen people nor followed the pillar of the cloud by day he would never have spoken with the eternal amid lightnings on Sinai's mountaintop nor ever have come down with the light of inspiration shining in his countenance and bearing in his arms the table of the law graven in the language of the outlaw he ceased and looked at them enjoying the silence omnibus for him JJ Omeloy said not without regret and yet he died without having entered the land of promise as sudden at the moment though from lingering illness often previously expected demise then an added and with a great future behind him the troop of bear feet was hered rushing along the hallway with the staircase that is oratory the professor said uncontradicted gone with the wind hosts at Mullah Mass and Tara of the Kings miles of ears of porches the tribunes words howled and scattered to the four winds a people sheltered within his voice dead noise a cassock records of all that's ever anywhere was love and glad him me no more I have money gentlemen Steven said as the next motion on the agenda paper may I suggest that the house do now adjourn you take my birth away is it not perchance a French compliment Mr. Maddenburg asked it is the hour me thinks when the wine jug metaphorically speaking is most grateful in ye ancient hostel way that it be and thereby is resolutely resolved all that are in favor say I then an announced the contrary no I declare it carried to which particular boozing shed my casting vote is moonies he led the way admonishing we will sternly refuse to partake of strong waters will we not yes we will not by no manner of means Mr. Maddenburg following close said with an ally's lunge of his umbrella Leon McDuff chipped off the old block the editor cried clapping Steven on the shoulder let us go where does blasted keys he fumbled in his pocket pulling out the crushed type sheets foot and mouth I know that'll be alright that'll go in where are they that's alright he thrust the sheets back and went into the inner office let us hope J.J. Omeloy about to follow him in said quietly to Steven I hope you will live to see it published miles one moment he went into the inner office closing the door behind him come along Steven the professor said that's fine isn't it it has the prophetic vision Fuit Illium the sack of Windy Troy kingdoms of this world the masters of the Mediterranean are fellowheen today the first news boy came pattering down the stairs at their heels and rushed out into the street yelling racing special dumpling I have much, much to learn they turned to the left along Abbey Street I have a vision too Steven said yes the professor said skipping to get into step Crawford will follow another news boy shot past him yelling as he ran racing special deer, darty, Dublin Dubliners two Dublin Vestals Steven said elderly and pious have lived 50 and 53 years in Fumbly's Lane where is that the professor asked off black pits Steven said damp night reeking of hungry dough against the wall face glistering tallow under her fustain shawl frantic hearts acoustic records quicker darling on now dare it let there be life they want to see the views of Dublin from the top of Nelson's pillar they save up 3 and 10 pence in a red tin letter box money box they shake out 3 penny bits 6 pence and coax out the pennies 8 of a knife 2 and 3 in silver and 1 and 7 in coppers they put on their bonnets and best clothes and take their umbrellas for fear it may come to rain wise virgins professor McHugh said life on the raw they buy 1 and 4 pence worth of brawn and 4 slices of pan loaf at the north city dining rooms in Marlborough street from Miss Kate Cullen's triatris they purchase 4 and 20 ripe plums from a girl at the foot of Nelson's pillar to take off the thirst of the brawn they give 2 3 penny bits to the gentleman at the turnstile and begin to waddle slowly up the winding staircase grunting encouraging each other afraid of the dark panting one asking the other have you the brawn praising God and a blessed virgin threatening to come down peeping at the ear slits glory be to God they had no idea it was that high their names are Ann Kearns and Florence McCabe Ann Kearns has the lumbago for which she rubs on lured to water given her by a lady who got a bottle full from a passionist father Florence McCabe takes a crew bean and a bottle of double X for supper every Saturday and this is the professor said nodding twice, festival virgins I can see them just keeping her friend he turned a bevy of scampering news boys rushed down the steps scattering in all directions yelling their white papers fluttering hard after them Miles Crawford appeared on the steps his hat orioling his scarlet face talking with JJ Omeloy come along the professor cried waving his arm he set off again to walk by Steven's side return of bloom yes he said I see them Mr. Bloom breathless caught in a whirl of wild news boys near the offices of the Irish Catholic and Dublin Penny Journal called Mr. Crawford a moment telegraph racing special what is it Miles Crawford said falling back apace a news boy cried in Mr. Bloom's face terrible tragedy in rat mines a child hit by a bellows interview with the editor just this ad Mr. Bloom said pushing through towards the steps puffing and taking the cutting from his pocket I spoke with Mr. Keyes just now he'd give a renewal for two months he says after he'll see but he wants a part to call attention in a telegraph too the Saturday pink and he wasn't copied if it's not too late I told councillor Nanetti from the Kilkenny people I can have access to it in a national library House of Keyes don't you see his name is Keyes it's a play on the name but he practically promised he'd give a renewal but he wants just a little puff what will I tell him Mr. Crawford K. M. A will you tell him he can kiss my arse Miles Crawford said drawing out his arm for emphasis tell him that straight from the stable a bit nervy look out for squalls all off for a drink arm and arm then an enziotic cap on the couch beyond usual blarney wonder is that young dead list a moving spirit has a good pair of boots on him today last time I saw him he had his heels on view been walking in muck somewhere careless chap what was he doing in Irish town well Mr. Bloom said his eye is returning if I can get the design I suppose it's worth a short par he'll give the ad I think I'll tell him K. M. R. I. A he can kiss my royal Irish arse Miles Crawford quite loudly over his shoulder any time he likes tell him while Mr. Bloom stood weighing the point and about to smile he strode on jirkely raising the wind nula bonajak he said raising his hand to his chin he said to hear I've been through to hoop myself I was looking for a fellow to back a bill for me no later than last week sorry Jack you must take the bill for the deed with a heart and a half if I could raise the wind anyhow JJ Omeloy pulled a long face and walked on silently they caught up on the others and walked abreast when they have eaten the brawn and the bread and wiped their 20 fingers in the paper the bread was wrapped in they go nearer to the railings something for you to Professor explained to Miles Crawford to old women on the top of Nelson's pillar some column that's what Wadler One said that's new Miles Crawford said that's copy out for the waxy's dargle two old tricky swat but they are afraid the pillar will fall Stephen went on they see the roofs and argue about where the different churches are Ratmines blew dome St. Lawrence or tools but it makes them giddy to look so they pull up their skirts those slightly rambunctious females easy all Miles Crawford said no poetic license we're in the archdiocese here and settled down on their stout petticoats peering up at the statue of the One Handled Adulterer One Handled Adulterer the professor cried I like that I see the idea I see what you mean Dames, Donate, Dublin's Sits, Speedpills Velocitus Aeroliths, Belief it gives them a quick in their necks Stephen said and they are too tired to look up or down or to speak they put the bag of plums between them and eat the plums out of it one after another wiping off with their handkerchiefs the plum juice that dribbles out of their mouths and spitting the plum stones slowly out between the railings he gave a sudden out laugh as it closed Lennon and Mr. O'Madenberg hearing turned, beckoned and led on towards Mooney's finished Miles Crawford said as long as you do no worse Sophist, Wallops, Haughty Helen Square on Probuscus Spartans, Nashmollers Ithacans, Val, Penn, Ischamp you remind me of Antisthenes the professor said a disciple of Georgius the Sophist it is said of him that none could tell if he were bitterer against others or against himself he was the son of a noble and a bond woman and he wrote a book in which he took away the palm of beauty from Argyve Helen and gave it to poor Penelope poor Penelope Penelope rich they made ready to cross O'Connell Street hello there central at various points eight lines tram cars with motionless trolleys stood in their tracks bound for or from Rathmines, Rathvarnam, Blackrock Kingstown and Docky Sandymount Green Ringsend and Sandymount Tower Dunnebrook, Palmerston Park and Upper Rathmines all still be calmed in short circuit Hackney cars cabs, delivery wagons mail vans aerated mineral water floats with rattling crates of bottles rattled, rolled horse drawn rapidly what and likewise where but what do you call it? where did they get the plums? Virgilian says pedagogue sophomore plumps for old man moses call it wait the professor said opening as long lips wide to reflect call it let me see call it no, Stephen said I call it a pisca site of Palestine with the power of the plums I see, the professor said he laughed richly I see, he said again with new pleasure Moses and the Promised Land we gave him that idea he added to JJ Omeloy I can assure this fair June day JJ Omeloy sent a weary side-long glance towards the statue and held his peace I see, the professor said he halted on Sir John Gray's Pavement Island and peered aloft at Nelson through the meshes of his rye smile diminished digits proved too titillating for frisky frumps and wimbles, flow wangos yet can you blame them when handled adulterer he said smiling grimly that tickles me I must say tickled the old ones too Moses Crawford said if the God Almighty's truth was known end of section 10 section 11 of Ulysses this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recorded by Nathan Jordan Ulysses by James Joyce Part 2 The Odyssey Episode 8 Lestergonians Part 1 Pineapple Rock Lemon Platt Butter Scotch a sugar-sticky girl shoveling scoopfuls of creams for a Christian brother some school treat bad for their tummies lozenge and comfort manufacturer to his majesty the king God save our sitting on his throne sucking red jujubes white a somber YMCA young man watchful among the warm sweet fumes of gram lemons placed a throw away in a hand of Mr. Bloom heart to heart talks Lou? me? no, blood of the lamb his slow feet walked him river word reading are you saved? all are washed in the blood of the lamb God wants blood victim birth, hymen, martyr, war foundation of a building sacrifice kidney burnt offering druids altars Elijah is coming Dr. John Alexander Dowey restorer of the church in Zion is coming is coming heartily welcome pain game Tory and Alexander last year polygamy his wife will put the stopper on that where was that ad some Birmingham firm the luminous crucifix our savior wake up in the dead of night and see him on the wall hanging pepper's ghost idea iron nails ran in phosphorus be done with if you leave a bit of codfish for instance I could see the bluey silver over it night I went down to the pantry in the kitchen don't like all the smells in it waiting to rush out what was it she wanted the Malaga raisins thinking of Spain before Rudy was born the phosphorescence that bluey greeny very good for the brain from Butler's monument house corner he glanced along bachelor's walk didalis's daughter there still outside Dylan's auction rooms must be selling off some old furniture knew her eyes at once from the father lobbing about waiting for him home always breaks up when the mother goes 15 children he had birth every year almost in their theology where the priest won't give the poor woman the confession the absolution increase and multiply did you ever hear such an idea eat you out of house and home no families themselves to feed living on the fat of the land their butteries and larders I'd like to see them do the black fast yam kapoor cross buns one meal and a collation for fear he'd collapse on the altar a housekeeper of one of those fellows if you could pick it out of her never pick it out of her like getting lsd out of him does himself well no guests all for number one watching his water bring your own bread and butter his reverence mums the word good lord that poor child's dress is in flitters under fed she looks to potatoes and marge marge and potatoes it's after they feel it proof of the pudding undermined the constitution as he sets foot on O'Connell bridge a puff ball of smoke plumed up from the parapet brewery barge with export stout England see air sours it I heard be interesting some day get to pass through Hancock to see the brewery regular world in itself bats of porter wonderful rats get in too drink themselves bloated as big as a collie floating dead drunk on the porter drink till they puke again like Christians imagine drinking that rats that's well of course if we knew all the things looking down he saw flapping strongly wheeling between the gaunt quay walls goals rough weather outside if I threw myself down Ruben J son must have swallowed a good belly full of that sewage one and eight pence too much it's the droll way he comes out with the things knows how to tell a story too they wheeled lower looking for grub wait he threw down among them a crumpled paper ball Elijah 32 feet per sec is calm not a bit the ball bobbed unheated on the wake of swells floated under by the bridge peers not such damn fools also the day I threw that stale cake out of the Aaron Kings picked it on the wake fifty yards astern live by their wits they wheeled flapping the hungry famished goal flaps or the waters do that is how poets write the similar sounds but then Shakespeare has no rhymes blank verse the flowed the language it is the thoughts solemn Hamlet I am thy father's spirit doomed for a certain time to walk the earth two apples a penny two for a penny his gaze passed over the glazed apples serried on her stand Australians they must be this time of year shiny peels polish this them up with the rag or a handkerchief wait those poor birds he halted again and watched from the old apple woman to Banbury cakes for a penny and broke the brittle paste and threw its fragments down into the Lithy see that the gulls swooped silently to then all from their heights pouncing on prey gone every morsel aware of their greed and cunning he shook the powdery crumb from his hands they never expected that manna live on fish fishy flesh they have all seabirds gulls seaboose swans from Anna Lithy swim down here sometimes to preen themselves no accounting for tastes wonder what kind is swan meat Robinson Crusoe had to live on them they wheeled flapping weekly I'm not going to throw any more penny quite enough lots of things I get not even a car they spread foot and mouth disease too if you cram a turkey say on chestnut meal it tastes like that eat pig like pig but then why is it that saltwater fish are not salty how is that his eyes sought answer from the river and saw a rowboat rock at anchor on the trickly swells lazily its plastered board quinoa's eleven trousers good idea that wonder if he pays rent to the corporation how can you own water really it's always flowing in a stream never the same which in the stream of life we trace because light is a stream all kinds of places are good for ads that quack doctor for the clap used to be stuck up in all the greenhouses never see it now strictly confidential doctor high franks didn't cost him a red like magini the dancing master self advertisement got fellows to stick them up or stick them up himself for that matter on the qt running in to loosen a button fly by night just the place too post no bills post one ten pills some chap with the dose burning him if he oh no no no i don't believe it he wouldn't surely no no mr. bloom moved forward raising his troubled eyes think no more about that after one time ball on the ballast office is down done sink time fascinating little book that is of sir robert balls parallax i never exactly understood there's a priest could ask him par it's greek parallel parallax met him pike hoses she called it till i told her about the trans migration oh rocks mr. bloom smiled oh rocks at two windows of the ballast office she's right after all only big words for ordinary things on account of the sound she's not exactly witty can be rude too blurt out what i was thinking still i don't know she used to say bin dollard had a base barrel tone voice he has legs like barrels and you'd think he was singing in to a barrel now isn't that witt they used to call him big bin not half as witty as calling him base barrel tone appetite like an albatross get outside of a barren of beef powerful man he was is stowing away number one bass barrel of bass see it all works out a procession of white smocked sandwichman marched slowly towards him along the gutter scarlet stashes across their boards bargains like that priest they are this morning we have sinned we have suffered read the scarlet letters on their five tall white hats h-e-l-y-s wisdom healies why lagging behind drew a chunk of bread from under his foreboard crammed it into his mouth and munched as he walked our staple food three bob a day walking along the gutters street after street just keep skin and bone together bread and skilly they are not boil no mgladesmen doesn't bring in any business either I suggested to him about a transparent show cart with two smart girls sitting inside writing letters copy books, envelopes blotting paper I bet that would have caught on smart girls writing something catch the eye at once everyone dying to know what she's writing get twenty of them round you if you stare at nothing have a finger in the pie women too curiosity pillar of salt wouldn't have it of course because he didn't think of it himself first with the ink bottle I suggested with a false stain of black celluloid his ideas for ads like plum trees potted under the obituaries cold meat department lichom what are on the lopes hello jones where are you going can't stop robinson I am hastening to purchase the only reliable incuracer cancel sold by healies limited 85 dame street well out of that ruck I am devil of a job it was collecting accounts of those convents tranquila convent that was a nice nun there really sweet face wimple suited her small head sister sister I am sure she was crossed in love by her eyes very hard to bargain with that sort of a woman I disturbed her at her devotions that morning but glad to communicate with the outside world our great day she said of our lady of mount carmel sweet name too caramel she knew I I think she knew by the way she if she had married she would have changed I suppose they really were short of money fried everything in the best butter all the same no lard for them my hearts broke eating dripping they like buttering themselves in and out she was crying it her veil up sister pat cleifey the pawnbroker's daughter it was a nun they say invented barbed wire he crossed west moorland street when apostrophe s had plotted by rover cycle shop those races are on today how long ago is that your phil gilligan died we were in lombard street west was in toms got the job in wisdom healies year we married six years ten years ago 94 he died yes that's right the big fire at our knots val dillon was lord mayor the glenn cre dinner alderman robert o' riley emptying the port into his soup before the flag fell bob bob lapping it for the inner alderman couldn't hear what the played for what we have already received made the lord make us millie was a kitty then molly had that elephant gray dress with the braided frogs man-tailored with self-covered buttons she didn't like it because I sprained my ankle first day she wore choir picnic at the sugarloaf as if that old goodwin's tall hat done up with some sticky stuff flies picnic too never put a dress on her back like it fitted her like a glove shoulders and hips just beginning to plump it out well rabbit pie we had that day people looking after her happy, happier then snug little room that was with the red wallpaper dock rolls one in nine pence a dozen millie's toving night american soap I bought cosy smell of her bathwater funny she looked soaked all over shapely too now photography poor papa's daguerreotype atelier he told me of her reddatory taste he walked along the curb stone stream of life what was the name of that priestly looking chap was always squinting in when he passed weak eyes woman soft and citron saint kevin's parade pin something my memory is getting pin of course it's years ago noise of the trams probably well if he couldn't remember the dayfather's name that he sees every day bar told they are see was the tenor just coming out then seeing her home after practice conceited fellow with his stuffed mustache gave her that song whims that blow from the south windy night that was I went to fetch her there was that lodge meeting on about those lottery tickets after goodwin's concert in the supper room or oak room of the mansion house he and I behind sheet of her music blew out of my hand against the high school railings but she was lucky it didn't thing like that spoils the effect of a night for her professor goodwin linking her in front shaky on his pins poor old sought his farewell concerts positively last appearance on any stage maybe for months and maybe for never remember her laughing at the wind remember that guest brufu blew up all her skirts and her boa nearly smothered old goodwin she did get flushed in the wind remember when we got home raking up the fire and frying up those pieces of lap of mutton for her supper with the chutney sauce she liked and the mold drum could see her in the bedroom from the hearth unclamping the her stays white swish and soft flop her stays made on the bed always warm from her always like to let herself out sitting there after till near two taking out her hairpins millie tucked up in beddie house happy happy that was the night oh mr. bloom how do you do how do you do mrs. no use complaining how is molly those times haven't seen her for ages in the pink mr. bloom said gaily millie has a position down in mullinger you know go away isn't that grand for her yes in the photographers there getting on like a house on fire how are all your charges all on the bakers list mrs. brine said how many has she no other in sight you're in black i see you have no no mr. bloom said i have just come from a funeral going to crop up all day i foresee who's dead when and what did he die of turn up like a bad penny oh dear me mrs. brine said i hope it wasn't any near relation may as well get her sympathy dingham mr. bloom said an old friend of mine he died quite suddenly poor fellow heart trouble i believe funeral was this morning your funerals tomorrow while you're coming through the rye dittle dittle dum dum dittle dittle sad to lose the old friends mrs. brine's woman i said melancholy now that's quite enough about that just quietly husband and your lord and master mrs. brine turned up her two large eyes hasn't lost them anyhow oh don't be talking she said he's a caution to rattlesnakes he's in there now with his law books finding out the law of libel he has me heart scalded wait till i show you hot muck turtle vapor and steam of new baked jam puffs roly-poly poured out from harrissons the heavy noon re tickled the top of mr. bloom's gullet want to make good pastry butter best flour demorara sugar or they'd taste it with the hot tea or is it from her a barefoot arab stood over the grating breathing in the fumes of hunger that way pleasure or pain is it penny dinner knife and fork chain to the table opening her handbag chipped leather hatpin ought to have a guard on those things stick it in a chap's eye in the tram rummaging open money please take one devils if they lose six pence raise cane husband barging where's the one shillings i gave you on Monday are you feeding your little brother's family soiled handkerchief medicine bottle pastel that was fell what is she there must be a new moon out she said he's always bad then do you know what he did last night her hand ceased to rummage her eyes picked themselves on him wide in alarm yet smiling what Mr. Bloom asked let her speak look straight in her eyes I believe you trust me woke me up in the night she said dream he had a nightmare indiges said the ace of spades was walking up the stairs the ace of spades Mr. Bloom said she took a folded postcard from her handbag read that she said he got it this morning what is it Mr. Bloom asked taking the card UP UP she said someone taking a rise out of him it's a great shame for them whoever he is she took back the card sighing and now he's going round to Mr. Menton's office he's going to take an action for ten thousand pounds he says she folded the card into her untidy bag and snapped the catch same blue surge dress she had two years ago the nap bleaching seen its best days whispish hair over her ears three old grapes to take the harm out of it shabby gentile she used to be a tasty dresser lines round her mouth only a year or so older than Molly see the eye that woman gave her passing cruel the unfair sex he looked still at her holding back behind his look his discontent pungent mock turtle ox tail I'm hungry too flakes of pastry on the gusset of her dress daub of sugary flour stuck to her cheek rhubarb tart with liberal fillings rich fruit interior Josie Powell that was in Luke Doyle's long ago Dolphin's Barn the charades UP changed the subject do you ever see anything of Mrs. Bowfoy Mr. Blum asked Mina Purefoy she said Philip Bowfoy I was thinking playgoers club match him often thinks of the master stroke did I pull the chain yes the last act yes I just called to ask on the way in is she over it she's in the lying inn hospital in Hollis street Dr. Horn got her in she's three days bad now oh Mr. Blum said I'm sorry to hear that yes Mrs. Breen said and a house full of kids at home it's a very stiff birth the nurse told me oh Mr. Blum said his heavy pitting gaze absorbed her news his tongue clacked in compassion I'm sorry to hear that he said poor thing three days that's terrible for her Mrs. Breen nodded she was taken bad on the Tuesday Mr. Blum touched her funny bone gently warning her mind let this man pass a bony form strode along the curbside from the river staring with a wrapped gaze into the sunlight through a heavy stringed glass tight as a skull piece a tiny hat gripped his head from his arm a folded dust coat a stick and an umbrella dangled to his stride watch him Mr. Blum said he always walks outside the lampposts watch who is he if it's a fair question Mrs. Breen asked is he Dottie his name is Casual Boyle O'Connor FitzMaurice Tisdall Farrell Mr. Blum said smiling watch he has enough of them she said Dennis will be like that one of these days she broke off suddenly there he is she said I must go after him goodbye remember me to Molly won't you I will Mr. Blum said he watched her dodge through passers towards the shop fronts Dennis Breen and skimpy frock coat and blue canvas shoes shuffled out of Harrison's he tombs to his ribs blown in from the bay like old times he suffered her to overtake him without surprise and thrust his dull gray beard towards her his loose jaw wagging as he spoke earnestly Meshuggah off his chump Mr. Blum walked on again easily seeing ahead of him in sunlight the tight skull piece the dangling stick umbrella his coat going the two days watch him out he goes again one way of getting on in the world and that other old mosey lunatic in those duds hard time she must have with him UP UP I'll take my oath that's Alf Bergen or Richie Golding wrote it for Lark in the scotch house I bet anything round to Menton's office oyster eyes staring at the postcard be a feast for the gods he passed the Irish times there might be other answers lying there like to answer them all good system for criminals code at their lunch now clerk with the glasses there doesn't know me oh leave them there to simmer enough bother waiting through forty four of them wanted smart lady typist to aid gentlemen in literary work I called you naughty darling because I do not like that other world please tell me what is the meaning please tell me what perfume does your wife tell me who made the world the way they spring those questions on you and the other one Lizzie twig my literary efforts have had the good fortune to meet with the approval of the imminent poet a Mr. Gio Russell no time to do her hair drinking sloppy tea with a book of poetry best paper by long chocks for a small ad got the provinces now cook and general exe cuisine housemaid kept wanted live man for spirit counter RSP girl RC wishes to hear a post in fruit or pork shop James Carlisle made that six and a half percent dividend made a big deal on coach's shares cacanny cunning old scotch hunks all the toady news our gracious and popular vice rain bought the Irish field now lady mount casual has quite recovered after her confinement and rode out with the ward union stag hounds at the enlargement yesterday at wrath with a need to will fox pot hunters to fear injects juices make it tender enough for them writing a stride sitter horse like a man weight carrying huntress no side saddle or pillion for her not for Joe first to the meet and in at the death strong as a brood mare some of these horsey women swagger around livery stables toss off a glass of brandy neat while you'd say knife that won at the governor this morning up with her on the car wish wish stonewall or five bar date put her mount to it think that pug nose driver did it out of spite who is this she was like oh yes mrs. Miriam dandrade that sold me her old wraps and black underclothes in the shellborn hotel divorce Spanish American didn't take a feather out of her my handling them as if I was her close horse saw her in the vice regal party when stubs the park ranger got me in with wheeling of the express scavenging with the quality left high tea mannets I poured on the plums thinking it was custard her ears ought to have tingled for a few weeks after want to be a bull for her born courtesan no nursery work for her thanks poor mrs. purefoy methodist husband method in his madness saffron bun and milk and soda lunch in the educational dairy ymca eating with the stopwatch 32 choose to the minute and still his mutton chop whiskers grew supposed to be well connected theaters cousin in Dublin castle one Tony relative in every family hardy annuals he presents her with saw him out at the three jolly toppers marching along bareheaded and his eldest boy carrying one in a market net the squalors poor thing then having to give the breast year after year all hours of the night selfish those tits are dog in the manger only one lump of sugar in my tea if you please end of section 11 recorded by Nathan Jordan section 12 of Ulysses this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recorded by Nathan Jordan Ulysses by James Joyce part 2 the Odyssey episode 8 Lester gonians part 2 he stood at fleet street crossing lunch and interval a six penny at rose must look up that ad in the national library late penny in the Burton better on my way he walked on past Bolton's Westmoreland house tea, tea, tea I forgot to tap Tom Kernan t-t-t-t-t three days imagine groaning on a bed with a vinegared handkerchief round her forehead her belly swollen out few dreadful simply child's head too big forceps but it's way out blindly groping for the way out kill me that wood lucky Molly got over hers lightly they ought to invent something to stop that life with hard labor Twilight's sleep idea Queen Victoria was given that nine she had a good layer old woman that lived in a shoe she had so many children suppose he was consumptive time someone thought about it instead of gassing about the what was it the pensive bosom of the silver effulgence flap doodle to feed fools on they could easily have big establishments whole thing quite painless out of all the taxes give every child born five quid at compound interest up to twenty one five percent is a hundred chillings and five tires and pounds multiply by twenty decimal system encourage put by money save hundred and ten and a bit twenty one years want to work it out on paper come to a tidy some more than you think not still born of course they are not even registered trouble for nothing funny sight two of them together their bellies out Molly and mrs. moisel mother's meeting pithesis retires for the time being then returns how flat they look all of a sudden after peaceful eyes wait up their mind old mrs. Thornton was a jolly old soul all my babies she said the spoon of papp in her mouth before she fed them oh that's yum yum got her hand crushed by old tom wall's son his first bow to the public head like a prize pumpkin snuffy dr. murrin people knocking them up at all hours for god's sake doctor wife in her throes then keep them waiting months for their fee to attendants on your wife no gratitude in people humane doctors most of them before the huge high door of the Irish House of Parliament a flock of pigeons flew their little frolic after meals who will we do it on I pick the fellow in black here goes here's good luck must be thrilling from the air Afchan myself and Owen Goldberg up in the trees near goose green playing the monkeys mackerel they called me a squad of constables debouched from college street marching in Indian file goose step food heated faces sweating helmets patting their truncheons after their feed with a good load of fat soup belts policemen's lot is off the happy one they split up in groups and scattered saluting towards their beats let out to graze best moment to attack one in pudding time a punch in his dinner a squad of others marching irregularly rounded trinity railings marking for this station bound for their troughs prepare to receive Calvary prepare to receive soup he crossed under Tommy Moore's roguish finger they did right to put him up over a urinal meeting of the waters ought to be places for women running into cake shops settle my hat straight there is not in this wide world of Ali great song of Julia Morkin's kept her voice up to the very last pupil of Michael Balthies wasn't she he gazed after the last broad tunic nasty customers to tackle jack power could a tail unfold father a g-man if a fellow gave them trouble being lagged they let him have it hot and heavy in the bride well can't blame them after all with the job they have especially the young hornies that horse policemen the day Joe Chamberlain was given his degree in trinity he got run for his money my word he did his horses clattering after us down Abbey streets lucky I had the presence of mine to dive into Manning's or I was souped he did come a wallop by George must have cracked his skull on the cobblestones I ought to have got myself swept along with those medicals and the trinity jibs and their mortarboards looking for trouble still I got to know that young Dixon who dressed that sting for me in the meter and now he's in Hollis street where Mrs. Purfoy wheels within wheels police whistle in my ears still all skedaddled why he fixed on me give me in charge right here it began up the boys three cheers for DeWette will hang Joe Chamberlain on a sour apple tree silly billies mob of young cubs yelling their guts out vinegar hill the butter exchange band few years time half of the magistrates and civil servants war comes on into the army helter skelter same fellows used to weather on the scaffold high never know who you're talking to corny Kelleher he was Harvey Duffin his eye like that Peter or Dennis or James Kerry that blew the gaff on the invincibles member of the corporation to egging raw youths on to get in the know all the time drawing secret service pay from the castle drop him like a hot potato why those plain clothes men are always courting slavies easily twig a man used to uniform square pushing up against the back door little her a bit then the next thing on the menu and who is the gentleman does be visiting there was the young master saying anything peeping Tom through the keyhole decoy duck hot blooded young students fooling round her fat arms ironing are those yours Mary I don't wear such things stop or I'll tell them this is on you out half the night there are great times coming Mary wait till you see ah along with your great times coming barmaids to tobacco shop girls James Stevens idea was the best he knew them circles of 10 so the fellow couldn't round on more than his own ring sin fine back out you get the knife hidden hand stay in the firing squad turnkey's daughter got him out of Richmond off from lusk putting up in the buckingham palace hotel under their very noses gerbaldi you must have a certain fascination Parnell Arthur Griffith is a square headed fellow but he has no go in him for the mob or gas about our lovely land gammon and spinach Dublin bakery companies tearoom debating societies that republicanism is the best form of government that the language question should take precedence of the economic question have your daughters in vagling them to your house stuff them up with meat and drink mckelmuss goose here's a good lump of time seasoning under the apron for you have another court of goose grease before it gets too cold half-enthusiast penny roll at a walk with the band no grace for the carver the thought that the other chap pays best sauce in the world make themselves thoroughly at home show us over those apricots meaning peaches the not far distant day home rule sun rising up in the northwest his smile faded as he walked a heavy cloud hiding the sun slowly shadowing trinities surly front trams past one another ingoing outgoing clanging useless words things go on same day after day squads of police marching out back trams in out those two loonies mooching about ding them carted off mean a pure for a swollen belly on a bed groaning to have a child tugged out of her one born every second somewhere other dying every second since I fed the birds five minutes three hundred kicked the bucket other three hundred born washing the blood off all are washed in the blood of the lamb bawling ma city full passing away other city full coming passing away to other coming on passing on houses lines of houses streets miles of pavements piled up bricks stones changing hands this owner that landlord never dies they say other steps into his shoes when he gets his notice to quit they buy the place up with gold and still they have all the gold swindle in it somewhere piled up in cities worn away age after age pyramids and sand built on bread and onions slaves Chinese wall Babylon big stones left round towers rest rubble sprawling suburbs rent caravans mushroom houses built of breeze shelter for the night no one is anything this is the very worst hour of the day vitality dull gloomy hate this hour feel as if I had been eaten and spewed provost's house the reverend doctor salmon tin salmon tendon there like a mortuary chapel wouldn't live in it if they paid me hope they have liver and bacon today nature abhors a vacuum the sun freed itself slowly and lit glints of light among the silverware opposite in Walter sexton's window by which John Howard Parnell passed unseen there he is the brother image of him haunting face now that's a coincidence course hundreds of times you think of a person and don't meet him like a man walking in his sleep no one knows him must be a corporation meeting today they say he never put on the city marshals uniform since he got the job Charlie Kavanaugh used to come out on his high horse cocked hat puffed powdered and shaved look at the woe begun walk of him egg poached eyes on ghost I have a pain great man's brother his brother's brother he'd look nice on the city charger drop into the DVC probably for his coffee play chess there his brother used men as pawns let them all go to pot afraid to pass a remark on him freeze them up with that eye of his that's the fascination the name all a bit touched mad fanny and his other sister mrs. Dickinson driving about with scarlet harness bolt upright like surgeon Mardell still david shee he beat him for south mead apply for the children hundreds and retire into public life the patriots banquet eating orange peels in the park salmon did Alice said when they put him in parliament that's Parnell would come back from the grave and lead him out of the house of humans by the arm of the two headed octopus one of whose heads is the head upon which the end of the world have forgotten to come while the other speaks with a scotch accent the tentacles they passed from behind Mr. Bloom along the curb stone beard and bicycle young woman and there he is too now that's really a coincidence second time coming events cast their shadows before with the approval of the imminent poet Mr. Gio Russell that might be Lizzie twig with him a.e. what does that mean initials perhaps Albert Edward Arthur Edmund Alphonsus Ebb Ed El Esquire what was he saying the ends of the world with a scotch accent tentacles octopus something occult symbolism holding forth she's taking it all in not saying a word to a gentleman in literary work his eyes followed the high figure in homespun beard and bicycle a listening woman at his side coming from the vegetarian only veggie bubbles and fruit don't eat a beef steak if you do the eyes of that cow will pursue you through all eternity they say it's healthier wind and watery though tried it keep you on the run all day bad as a bloater dreams all night why do they call that thing they gave me nut steak notarians fruitarians to give you the idea you're eating rump steak absurd salty too they cook in soda keep you sitting by the tap all night her stockings are loose over her ankles I detest that so tasteless those literary ethereal people they are all dreamy, cloudy, symbolistic esthetes they are I wouldn't be surprised if it was that kind of food you see produces the like waves of the brain the poetical for example one of those policemen sweating Irish stew into their shirts you couldn't squeeze a line of poetry out of him what poetry is even must be in a certain mood the dreamy, cloudy gull waves or the water's dull he crossed that Nassau street corner and stood before the window of Yates and Sun pricing the field glasses or will I drop into old Harris's and have a chat with young Sinclair well mannered fellow probably at his lunch must get those old glasses of mine to write Gert's lenses, six guineas Germans making their way everywhere sell on easy terms to capture trade undercutting might chance on a pair in the railway lost property office astonishing the things people leave behind them in trains and cloak rooms what do they be thinking about women too, incredible last year traveling to Ennis had to pick up that farmer's daughter's bar and hand it to her at Limerick Junction unclaimed money too there's a little watch up there on the roof of the bank to test those glasses by his lids came down on the lower rooms of his irides, can't see it if you imagine it's there you can almost see it can't see it he faced about and standing between the awnings held out his right hand at arms length the sun wanted to try that often, yes, completely the tip of his little finger blotted out the sun's disk, must be the focus where the rays cross if I had black glasses interesting there was a lot of talk about those sunspots when we were in Lombard Street West looking up from the back garden terrific explosions they are, there will be a total eclipse this year autumn sometime now that I come to think of it that ball falls at Greenwich time it's the clock is worked by an electric wire from Dunsink must go out there some first Saturday of the month if I could get an introduction to Professor Jolie or learn up something about his family that would do too man always feels complimented flattery where least expected nobleman proud to be descended from some king's mistress his fore mother lay it on with a trowel, cap and hand goes through the land not go in and blurt out what you know you're not to what's parallax shows this gentleman the door ah his hand fell to his side again never know anything about it waste of time gas balls spinning about crossing each other passing same old ding dong always gas then solid then world then cold then dead shell drifting around frozen rock like that pineapple rock the moon must be a new moon out I believe there is he went on by la maison claire wait the full moon was the night we were Sunday fortnight exactly there is a new moon walking down by the toka not bad for a fair view moon she was humming young may moon she's beaming love he other side of her arm he glow worms la amp is gleaming love touch fingers asking answer yes stop stop if it was it was must mr. bloom quick breathing slow lair walking past atom court with the keep quiet relief his eyes took note this is the street here middle of the day of bob doran's bottle shoulders on his annual bend him coy said they drink in order to say or do something or show she left them up in the comb with chummies and street walkers and then the rest of the year sober as a judge yes thought so sloping into the empire gone plain sota would do him good where pat cancella had his harp theater before witbred ran the queens brotha the boy dian bujiko business with his harvest moon face in a rocky bonnet three pretty maids from school how time flies a showing long red pantaloons under his skirts drinkers drinking laughs bluttering their drink against their breath more power pat course read fun for drunkards gaffa and smoke take off that white hat his par boiled eyes where is he now beggar somewhere the harp that once starves all I was happier then or was that I or am I now I 28 I was she 23 when we left lombard street west something changed could never like it again after Rudy can't bring back time like holding water in your hand would you go back to then just beginning then would you are you not happy in your home you poor little naughty boy wants to sew on buttons for me I must answer write it in the library grafting street gay with housed awnings lured his senses muslin prints soaked dames and dowagers jingle of harnesses hoof thuds low ringing in the baking causeway dick feet that woman has in the white stockings hope the rain mucks them up on her country bread char bacon all the beef to the heels were in always gives a woman clumsy feet molly looks out of plum he passed dallying the windows of brown Thomas silk mercers cascades of ribbons flimsies china silks a tilted urn poured from its mouth a flood of blood huge poplin lustrous blood the Huguenots brought that here La Casa e Santa Tara Tara great chorus that tarry Tara must be washed in rainwater Meyer beer Tara bomb bomb bomb pin cushions I'm a long time threatening to buy one sticking them all over the place needles and window curtains he bared slightly his left forearm scrape nearly gone not today anyhow must go back for that lotion for her birthday perhaps June July August September 8th nearly three months off then she mightn't like it women won't pick up pins say it cut slow gleaming silks petticoats on slim brass rails rays of flat silk stockings unless to go back had to be tell me all high voices sunwarm silk jingling harnesses all for a woman home and houses silk webs silver rich fruit spicy from jaffa agendath Niteim wealth of the world a warm human plumpness settled down on his brain his brain yielded perfume of embraces all him assailed with hungered flesh obscurely he mutely craved to adore Duke Street here we are must eat the Burton feel better than he turned Conbridge's corner still pursued jingling hoof thuds perfumed bodies warm full all kissed yielded in deep summer fields tangled pressed grass and trickling hallways of tenements along sofas creaking beds Jack love darling kiss me Reggie my boy love his heart a stir he pushed in the door of the Burton restaurant stink gripped his trembling breath pungent mitus slush of greens see the animals feed men men men perched on highstools by the bar hats shoved back at the tables calling for more bread no charge, swilling wolfing gobbles of sloppy food their eyes bulging wetted mustaches a pallid suit faced young man polished his tumbler knife fork and spoon with his napkin new set of microbes a man with an infant sauce stained napkin tucked around him shoveled gurgling soup down his gullet a man spitting back on his plate half masticated gristle gums no teeth to chew to chew it chump chop from the grill bolting to get it over sad boozer's eyes bitten off more than he can chew am I like that see yourselves as others see us hungry man is an angry man working tooth and jaw don't oh a bone that last pagan king of Ireland Cormac in the school poem choked himself at Slutty southward of the Boyne wonder what he was eating something Galopchus Saint Patrick converted him to Christianity couldn't swallow it all however roast beef and cabbage one stew smells of men his gorge bros spat and sawdust sweetish warmish cigarette smoke reek of plug spilt beer minns berry piss couldn't eat a morsel here fellow sharpening knife fork to eat all before him old chap picking his sleight spasm full chewing the cud before and after grace after meals look on this picture then on that scoffing up stew gravy with sopping snippets of bread lick it off the plate man get out of this he gazed round the stool filled in tabled eaters tightening the wings of his nose two stouts here one corned and cabbage let fellow ramming a knife full of cabbage down as if his life depended on it good stroke give me the fidgets to look safer to eat from his three hands tarot limb from limb second nature to him born with a silver knife in his mouth silver tea I think or no silver means born rich born with a knife but then the illusion is lost an illgert server gathered sticky clattering plates rock the head bailiff standing at the bar blew the foamy crown from his tankard well up it splashed yellow near his boot a diner knife and fork upright elbows on table ready for a second helping stare towards the food lift across his stained square of newspaper other chap telling him something with his mouth full sympathetic listener table talk I munched hum unto unchester bunk a munch day ha did you faith Mr. Bloom raised two fingers doubtfully to his lips his eyes said not here don't see him out I hate dirty eaters he backed towards the door get a light snack and Davey burns stop gag keep me going had a good breakfast roast and mashed here pint of stout every fellow for his own tooth and nail gulp grub gulp gobb stuff he came out into clear air and turned back towards Grafton street eat or be eaten kill kill suppose that communal kitchen years to come perhaps all trotting down with poor injures and tomy cans to be filled devour contents in the street John Howard Parnell example the provost of Trinity every mother's son don't talk of your provost and provost of trinity women and children cabman, priests, parson's field marshals, archbishops from Ellesbury road Clyde road artisan dwellings union lord mayor and his gingerbread coach old queen in a bath chair my plate's empty after you with our incorporated drinking cup like Sir Philip Crampton's fountain rub off the microbes with your handkerchief next chap rubs on a new batch with his father O'Flynn would make hairs of them all have rows all the same number one children fighting for the scrappings of the pot want a soup pot as big as the phoenix park harpooning, flitches and hind quarters out of it hate people all around you city arms hotel table de hote she called it soup joint and sweet never know who's thoughts you're chewing then who'd wash up all the plates and forks might be all feeding on tabloids that time teeth getting worse and worse after all there's a lot in that vegetarian fine flavor of things from the earth garlic of course it stinks after Italian organ grinders crisp of the onions mushrooms truffles pain to the animal too pluck and draw foul wretched brutes there at the cattle market waiting for the poil to spit their skulls open moo poor trembling calves meh staggering bob bubble and squeak butchers buckets wobbly lights give us that brisket off the hook plump raw head and bloody bones flayed glass-eyed sheep hung from their haunches sheep snouts bloody papered sniveling nose jam on sawdust top and lashers going out don't maul them pieces young one hot fresh blood they prescribe for decline blood always needed insidious lick it up smoking hot thick sugary famished ghosts ah I'm hungry he entered Davey Burns moral pub he doesn't chat stands a drink now and then but in leap year once and for cash to check for me once what will I take now he drew his watch let me see now shandy gaff hello bloom nosy Flynn said from his nook hello Flynn how's things tip-top let me see I'll take a glass of burgundy and let me see sardines on the shelves almost taste them by looking sandwich ham and his descendants mustard and bread there potted meats what is home without plum trees potted meat incomplete what a stupid add under the obituary notices they stuck it all up a plum tree dinghams potted meat cannibals wood with lemon and rice white missionary too salty like pickled pork expect the chief consumes the parts of honor ought to be tough from exercise his wives in a row to watch the effect there was a right royal old man who ate or something the somethings of the reverend mr. mech trigger with it an abode of bliss lord knows what concoction calls moldy tripes windpipes faked and minced up puzzle find the meat kosher no meat and milk together hygiene that was what they call now yum kapoor fast spring cleaning of inside peace and war depend on some fellow's digestion religions Christmas turkeys and geese slaughter of innocence eat drink and be married then casual wards full after heads bandaged cheese digest all but itself mitty cheese have you a cheese sandwich yes sir like a few olives too they had them Italian I prefer good glass of burgundy take away that lubricate a nice salad cool as a cucumber Tom Kernan can dress puts gusto into it pure olive oil Millie served me that cutlet with a sprig of parsley take one Spanish onion God made food the devil the cooks deviled crab wife well quite well thanks a cheese sandwich then garganzola have you yes sir nosy Flynn set his grog doing any singing those times look at his mouth could whistle in his own ear flap ears to match music noses much about it as coachman still better tell him does no harm free ad she's engaged for a big tour end of this month you may have heard perhaps no oh that's the style who's getting it up the curate served how much is that seven D sir thank you sir Mr. Bloom cut his sandwich into slender strips Mr. Mctrigger easier on the dreamy creamy stuff his five hundred wives had the time of their lives mustard sir thank you he studied under each lifted strip yellow blobs their lives I have it it grew bigger and bigger and bigger getting it up he said well it's like a company idea you see part shares and part profits hey now I remember nosy Flynn said putting his hand in his pocket to scratch his groin who is this was telling me isn't blazes Boilin mixed up in it a warm shock of air heat have mustard hunched on Mr. Bloom's heart he raised his eyes and met the stare of a bilious clock to pub clock five minutes fast time going on hands moving to not yet his midriff yearned then upward sank within him yearned more longly longingly wine he smelt sip the cordial juice and bidding his throat strongly to speed it set his one glass delicately down yes he said he's the organizer in point of fact no fear no brains nosy Flynn snuffled and scratched having a good square meal he had a good slice of luck Jack Mooney was telling me over that boxing match Miler Kogue won again that soldier in the Portobello barracks by God he had that little Kipper down in the county Carlo he was telling me hope that do drop doesn't come down into his glass no snuffled it up for near a month man keep him off sucking duck eggs by God till further orders keep him off the booze see oh by God blazes as a hairy chap Davey Byrne came forward from the hind bar in tuck stitched shirt sleeves cleaning his lips with two wipes of his napkin herrings blush who smile upon each feature plays with such and such replete too much fat on the parsnips and hears himself and on him nosy Flynn said can you give us a good one for the gold cup I'm off that Mr. Flynn Davey Byrne answered I never put anything on a horse you're right there nosy Flynn said end of section 12 recorded by Nathan Jordan